


Get You

by platinum_firebird



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinum_firebird/pseuds/platinum_firebird
Summary: But every time Otabek kisses him, Yuri thinks about doing more. Thinks about what Otabek would look like with his shirt off, or entirely naked. Thinks about touching his dick, or sucking him off, or the two of them fucking; he spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about the two of them fucking.That’s what friends with benefits are supposed to do, right? That’s why they’re called fuckbuddies.or; Yuri and Otabek lose their virginity to each other. It takes Yuri a little longer to lose his heart.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 5
Kudos: 189
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	Get You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soulstoned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulstoned/gifts).



The first time it happens is when Yuri is drunk. Technically, as a world class athlete, he’s not supposed to drink that much - but he’s also sixteen, so, sometimes shit happens.

However he got there, the result is that he’s drunk and stupid and when Otabek shepherds him back to his hotel room, Yuri goes up to his toes at the door and kisses him.

It’s sloppy, unpractised, and totally out of the blue. He doesn’t even give Otabek time to kiss him back; just lays one on him, then pulls away and slips into his hotel room, leaving an incredibly confused Otabek outside his door.

It would be easier if he had to leave for a plane early the next morning, but his flight isn’t until nine, and Otabek’s is even later. So, hungover and embarrassed, he has to let Otabek into his room the next morning. He doesn’t say anything at first, and Yuri sort of hopes they aren’t going to talk about it - until Otabek says, “So…the kiss?”

Yuri looks away. “Yeah. I- that’s a thing, isn’t it? That friends do? Sometimes?”

Otabek looks at him for an uncomfortably long time before saying, “Yeah, I guess. They usually talk about it first, though.”

“You wanna talk about it, then?” Yuri asks, sinking a little on the bed and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, do you want to do it again? Otherwise I guess we can just move on.”

That question catches Yuri off guard. _Does_ he want to do it again? For that matter, why had he done it in the first place? He can say he’d simply been drunk, but…He glances over at Otabek and quickly away again. If there’s a chance of doing that again - or more - he can’t deny he wants to try it. He shrugs and mutters, “I wouldn’t hate it.”

“What a glowing compliment,” Otabek says flatly.

“Shut up!” Yuri glowers at him. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you’re cool with it.”

Otabek gives him another one of those long, searching looks; then he looks away, staring out the window for a bit before saying, “Yeah. I am.”

“I mean, like- a casual thing. Just friends,” Yuri stresses, because the idea of being Otabek’s _boyfriend_ suddenly feels terrifying, though he can’t articulate why.

“Yeah. Just friends, that’s what I meant.” For a second Yuri thinks Otabek sounds sad; then he looks back at him and says, “So, breakfast?” and the moment is gone. They go out, get a late breakfast, spend most of the day in the city together. By the time he gets on his flight that evening, Yuri has almost forgotten their conversation from the morning. It’s still easy to talk to Otabek, to be his friend. Agreeing to kiss him sometimes doesn’t seem to have changed anything.

They go on like that for a while. They meet up at competitions and sometimes for training, once a whole week in St Petersburg when Otabek comes to visit. They just kiss, mostly, and for a while Yuri is fine with that.

But every time Otabek kisses him, Yuri thinks about doing more. Thinks about what Otabek would look like with his shirt off, or entirely naked. Thinks about touching his dick, or sucking him off, or the two of them fucking; he spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about the two of them fucking. That’s what friends with benefits are supposed to do, right? That’s why they’re called fuckbuddies.

But Otabek seems perfectly content to stay as they are. They kiss, and kiss more, and every time Yuri tries to subtly touch him more, hint that he might want to take things further, Otabek doesn’t rise to it. It’s beyond frustrating - it’s downright infuriating.

Otabek values straightforward communication - he’s said as much - and he did straight out ask Yuri, right at the beginning, if they were going to be friends or not. He’s no stranger to being blunt. That’s why, Yuri reasons, sitting down at the breakfast table the morning before Worlds and asking, “Alright, so when are we gonna fuck?” is not too far out of line.

Otabek chokes on his coffee, which suggests that he might not share that opinion.

After they’ve cleaned the mess on the table and got Otabek another mug, he stares at Yuri and asks, “So, er, _what_?”

“I mean, y’know, _fuck_. That’s what fuckbuddies do, right?” Yuri says, hating the defensive near-whine that creeps into his voice.

For a moment Otabek doesn’t speak; he just goes slowly red while Yuri watches in fascination, because Otabek _never_ blushes. This is a rare and honestly somewhat unnerving sight.

“I mean, do you not want to?” Yuri asks, and immediately regrets it, because what if Otabek says _yes_ , he really would rather not fuck Yuri, thanks?

Otabek reddens even more and says, “That’s not it.”

“Then what?” Yuri demands. After a second another idea pops into his head, and he growls, “Listen, just cause I’m sixteen-”

“It’s not that,” Otabek cuts him off.

“Then what?”

Otabek looks down into his coffee, and after a second Yuri looks away, too. “You can just say,” he says, quieter, “If you, like, don’t want to. It’s cool.” It’s not cool, obviously, but he’d sure as hell rather pretend it is than force Otabek to fake liking him like that.

“I’ve never had sex before,” Otabek says. He looks uncomfortable when Yuri turns back to him.

“Oh.” It’s odd, in retrospect, that Yuri had just assumed Otabek had already done all of this; he’s not that much older than Yuri, and his schedule is just as full, his life just as hectic.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it. I just don’t want you to think I’m…that I know exactly what I’m doing,” Otabek says.

It takes a moment for Yuri to process it - but the opposite of not wanting to do something logically is- “So you _do_ want to do it, though?” he presses, feeling butterflies take wing suddenly in his stomach.

“Yes,” Otabek says immediately, and then looks embarrassed. “I mean- yeah. If you want to.”

Yuri’s not sure what he’s supposed to say to that - ‘thanks’? Instead he settles on, “So, the night after the competition?”

“Yeah, okay,” Otabek says, and then they’re getting called to go start the day, and for a while Yuri barely has time to think about Otabek. It’s hard not to remember it, though, in the moments of downtime, when he’s waiting for his turn on the ice. To remember how quickly Otabek had said _yes_ , and how he’d blushed. To remember that now he’s pushed for this he has to _follow through_. The anticipation makes him feel such a complicated tangle of nervous and excited that in comparison, the competition is a cakewalk.

Neither of them win, but Yuri manages to nab silver. If he’d won the gold he’d half been considering wearing it to Otabek’s room, but since he didn’t even podium, now that would feel a bit like rubbing salt in the wound. Instead Yuri turns up empty-handed, and is wondering whether he should have brought something - like, are you supposed to bring wine or food or something when you turn up to a date with your fuckbuddy? - when Otabek opens the door. “Hey,” Yuri says, trying to sound cool rather than nervous.

“Hi,” Otabek says, standing back to let him in.

His room looks much the same as Yuri’s upstairs - desk, chair, wardrobe, bed, and a door to the bathroom. For a second they just stand by the bed, staring at each other, before Yuri can’t help but let out a snort of laughter. “What?” Otabek asks, looking bewildered, which just makes Yuri laugh more.

“You just-” he gasps out, “You look so serious, like you’re about to take a fucking math test or something.”

Otabek scowls at him and mutters, “Shut up- fucking _math test_ -” before he’s across the room and kissing him, which is the most effective and enjoyable way anyone’s ever shut Yuri up before.

Yuri figures falling back onto the bed and pulling Otabek with him will be sexy; it turns out that their lips break apart on the way down, and Otabek narrowly avoids head butting him. But, on the plus side, he’s now on the bed with Otabek heavy and warm on top of him, which is a definite improvement on standing.

They kiss for a bit longer, and this time, when Yuri lets his hands wander, Otabek’s hands do the same. Down his sides to his waist, pulling Yuri’s leg up around his hip - and now Yuri can feel that Otabek is already half-hard through the thin material of his sweatpants, which is just _amazing_ , honestly. He breaks away from Otabek’s mouth and says, “Get off, let me take off my clothes.”

The distinct advantage of throwing his clothes off as fast as he can manage is that he gets to watch Otabek take off his. He pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, but hesitates before taking off his pants, looking back at Yuri. Yuri’s not sure what he’s supposed to do - like, grin? Give him a thumbs up or something? - but it seems like just staring at him does the trick, because Otabek proceeds with pulling off his pants.

Yuri has imagined seeing his dick a hundred times or more, but the real thing is even better. “Get over here,” he says, surprised at the sudden rasp in his voice. Otabek does, kneeling slowly between Yuri’s legs, and for a second they just look at each other. A flutter of sudden, sick nerves goes through Yuri’s gut, and he whispers without thinking, “Is this weird?”

Otabek shakes his head, and leans down to kiss him.

Kissing naked is a hundred times better kissing clothed, and for a while Yuri thinks this could be enough to get him off - Otabek’s hands all over his skin, his mouth on his neck, the pleasure that sparks like an electric current when their dicks touch and rub up against each other. He almost thinks Otabek thinks that too, will let that be all that happens tonight - but he pulls back eventually and says, “Do you wanna- I mean, I have the stuff, but did you want-”

“You on top,” Yuri says, and kisses him again. When Otabek pulls away and reaches for the drawer in the nightstand he adds, “I mean, if you’re okay with that-”

“Yeah,” Otabek says, coming back with lube and condoms in his hand, and Yuri feels another spike of that tangled nerves-excitement he’s been feeling ever since he suggested this. Because _fuck_ , they’re going to actually _do_ this.

Otabek squirts the lube onto his fingers, and Yuri opens his legs as Otabek sits back on his heels. He feels exposed like this, with his legs splayed wide open and Otabek just there, looking down at him as his cold, slick fingers brush over Yuri’s hole, that look of concentration back on his face again. There’s something sexy about it, Yuri decides with a shiver, about someone focusing their whole attention on him like that.

Otabek goes slow with the fingering, adding a whole lot of lube, which honestly gets a little boring after a while, much as Yuri is nervous about moving on to what happens next. After a while he gets the impression Otabek might actually be nervous about that too, because he’s got several fingers easily up there and shows no sign of reaching for the condoms. “I think it’s good,” Yuri gaps, because for god’s sake, Otabek, _get on with it_.

Otabek blinks down at him. “You sure?”

“I mean, I don’t exactly have a whole lot of experience to compare to? But it feels fine.”

Otabek nods and cracks open a condom, which he seems fairly confident in getting on. Yuri can’t resist asking, “Did you ace the test on the banana at school?”

“Fucking top of the class,” Otabek deadpans as he leans over Yuri, and the little burst of laughter that elicits makes something loosen just a little in Yuri’s stomach. “Ready?” Otabek asks, and Yuri nods.

It’s slightly bigger, but more importantly blunter than Otabek’s fingers. Yuri’s slick enough with lube Otabek’s dick slips into him fairly easily, but he has to make him stop a few times, just to let himself pause for a few seconds and adjust. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but the sensation is a burning stretch that rides the line between pleasure and pain. Otabek watches him, studying his face, his own breath coming in tight, sharp pants. “There,” he gasps, when he’s finally in right up to the hilt, and for a second they stay there, foreheads touching, just breathing.

Yuri likes it better when Otabek starts moving, when the slide of his dick in and out of his hole gets easier and starts to actually feel _good_. He’s panting, his hands gripping Otabek’s shoulders, eyes closed, and _fuck_ , this feels even better than he thought it would. When he opens his eyes Otabek is looking down at him with this expression that’s something like amazement, something like wonder; before Yuri can think about it for more than a second Otabek’s hand is wrapping around his dick, and then there’s nothing else he can concentrate on. He comes with a moan that’s louder than he intended it to be, and after a few more thrusts Otabek comes too, pressing his face into the side of Yuri’s neck.

They lie like that for a little while, panting, until Yuri slings his arms around Otabek and says, “I hope your neighbours didn’t hear that.”

He feels Otabek’s lips smile against his neck. “That was pretty loud.”

“Shut up.” He pushes Otabek off him, hiding a shiver when Otabek’s dick slides out of him. He feels gross and sticky, but otherwise, not as shaken up as he’d half thought he might be. He looks over to find Otabek watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. “What?” Yuri asks.

“Was that okay?” Otabek asks, and Yuri can hear the underlying note of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah. It was good.” Yuri hesitates for a second before leaning over to plant a kiss on Otabek’s lips. Otabek doesn’t protest, kissing him back softly for a second before Yuri pulls away. “Can I use your shower?” he asks, and Otabek nods. Yuri feels his eyes on him all the way, right up until he closes the bathroom door.

/

They have sex a few more times before Yuri begins to feel that Otabek is unhappy, somehow, with this arrangement. It’s not something he says out loud; in fact, when Yuri asks him if he’s still okay with this, he replies in the affirmative. But there’s a sort of sadness in his eyes every time the sex is over, like he wants to say something, but can’t quite bring himself to do it.

Every time he thinks about it, a treacherous little part of Yuri’s mind says, _he probably wants to end it - he’s probably found someone else,_ so Yuri tries not to think about it too often. He checked, didn’t he? And Otabek said it was fine. So it’s fine.

Since Otabek came to St Petersburg last time, now it’s Yuri’s turn to go to him. He steps off the plane into the heat of Almaty’s summer, and finds Otabek waiting for him just past the exit of the arrivals terminal. Something sparks in his stomach the moment he spots him, some combination of nerves and excitement and happiness, and he can’t stop a smile spreading over his face, the feeling only intensifying when Otabek smiles right back at him.

They stop long enough to drop Yuri’s bag at Otabek’s place, then go out for dinner. It’s quiet and relaxed, and as far as Yuri can tell, Otabek seems happy to have him here, in his city, eating dinner in his favourite restaurant.

It’s three exhausting but enjoyable days of sightseeing and hanging out later when they’re sitting at a table in a pokey little restaurant just down the street from Otabek’s place, Yuri picking at his food while absently watching the TV on the wall behind Otabek’s head. “This is pretty much just softcore porn,” he says after a while, wrinkling his nose.

Otabek blinks at him. “What?”

Yuri nods to the TV. “This music video.”

Otabek twists to watch it for a second over his shoulder. “Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugs and turns back around. “I think I watched a porn video like that, actually.”

Yuri raises his eyebrows. “So you’re into teacher/student stuff?”

“I mean, not really? I just tried it out, to see if it worked for me.”

“I could see you as the bad student,” Yuri says, nodding at the TV again, “Leather jacket, motorcycle, check. All you’d need would be the snapback and bad grades.”

Now it’s Otabek’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You sound like you’d be kinda into it.”

Yuri can feel himself starting to blush, though he tries to play it off. “I mean, the jacket is nice. The bike’s not bad, either.”

Otabek gives him a smug little smile, one that he’s still wearing when they get back to his apartment. “Stop it,” Yuri says as they walk through the door, “You’re not cut out to be a bad boy, anyway. You got straight fucking A’s.”

“I could pretend,” Otabek says, his voice warm with humour. When Yuri looks back, he’s already shrugging into the leather jacket that he’d left hanging by the door. “Good?”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuri says, but it doesn’t come out as sharp as he means it to be, because Otabek _does_ look damn good in that jacket.

“I think I have a cap somewhere around here, too,” Otabek says, grinning at him.

“Veto,” Yuri says, “That’s the opposite of sexy.”

“So the jacket _is_ sexy,” Otabek says, walking over to Yuri with an exaggerated swagger. “We can go down to the parking garage if you want.”

Yuri can’t help but snort with laughter. “And what, fuck on your bike?”

“I mean, if you’re into it…” Otabek says, his grin turning into more of a smirk as he backs Yuri into the wall.

“In a _public_ parking garage?”

“It’s in a dark corner.”

For a second, Yuri does entertain the idea, absurd as it is. He can take or leave the motorbike, but the idea of risking being discovered by someone is oddly hot - embarrassing as it would be in actuality. “Maybe later,” he says, and pulls Otabek closer by the lapels of his jacket.

The sex is good, like always, and this time Yuri thinks maybe, maybe Otabek won’t have that little moment of unhappiness right afterward. They went into this laughing, so Yuri cracks a joke right after they both finish, something stupid about sexy hair or something, and Otabek laughs along with him. For once, he looks happy enough, and he doesn’t say anything when Yuri doesn’t get up to go back to the spare bed.

Instead, Yuri wakes up a couple hours later to find himself alone in the bed. He hesitates for a minute, thinking maybe Otabek’s just in the bathroom; then he sets off to find him.

Otabek is on the balcony, arms crossed on the rail, looking out over the city. Now that look of sadness is back in full force, a sort of quiet, pensive moroseness that makes something curdle in Yuri’s stomach.

When he slides open the balcony door, Otabek turns to look at him in surprise. “Can’t sleep?” he asks.

“Guess not,” Yuri says shortly, staring at him. He folds his arms, looking Otabek up and down with a critical frown. A horrible, niggling little thought has popped up in his head, about why Otabek might look so glum after every time they fuck. He can’t stop thinking it, so he forces himself to just open his mouth and say it. “Am I really bad at sex?”

Otabek starts. “What?” he asks, clearly thrown off.

“Am I bad at it?” Yuri demands, forcing his voice not to shake.

“No,” Otabek says, frowning back at him. “What makes you think that?”

“Do you want to end this, like, casual thing, then?” Yuri says, ignoring Otabek’s question.

“I mean, no, not unless you want…” Otabek shakes his head. “Where is this coming from, all of a sudden?”

“Well, you’re not happy about _something._ Every time, after we have sex, you get this look, like,” Yuri tries to imitate the face he sees Otabek make. “Like, you’re super sad about something, or some shit.”

Otabek stares at him for a minute; then he turns to look back at the city, tapping a fingernail on the metal railing. After a very long, very uncomfortable silence he asks, “Do you enjoy it? Like this?”

“Like what?”

“Having sex, but not… But being just friends.”

“I guess?” Yuri scrubs a hand through his hair, then freezes as a sudden realisation hits him - a third potential reason for the sadness in Otabek’s eyes. Something that he hadn’t even thought of - or rather, hadn’t let himself consider possible. “Wait- do you want-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Otabek says, moving as if to go past Yuri and back into the apartment. “If you don’t-”

“Of course it matters!” Yuri protests, catching his arm. “I’m not having you being fucking _sad_ about us having sex, Otabek. So cut the crap.”

Otabek breathes a heavy sigh. “Fine. Okay, yeah, I’d like… to be more than friends.” He doesn’t pause long enough for Yuri to respond before he says, “But it’s fine, Yuri, I know you don’t want-”

“Who says I don’t?” Yuri asks hotly.

Otabek frowns at him. “You do. You did, when we started this.”

“That was two years ago,” Yuri protests.

Otabek gives him a long look. “Well, have things changed?”

Yuri opens his mouth, then closes it. _Have_ things changed? He suddenly finds it hard to look Otabek in the eye; instead he lets his eyes drop to where his hand encircles Otabek’s bare forearm. Gently, he lets his grip loosen, just enough so that his hand slides down across Otabek’s skin until their hands are entangled. Otabek takes a breath to say something, but then seems to think better of it, and they stand there in silence.

Yuri hasn’t really let himself think about what they’d be like, if they weren’t just friends with benefits. It seems like too much to hope for - that the guy who’s become his best friend, the guy he likes hanging out with so much, the guy who he has great sex with, could also be his boyfriend. It seems too unrealistic, to think that somehow all this won’t eventually get fucked up.

But Otabek wants this. If he thinks they can work, then maybe…

And more than anything else, he doesn’t want to see that sadness in Otabek’s eyes anymore.

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his thumb over Otabek’s knuckles, “Things have changed.”

When he looks back up, Otabek is giving him this worried, hesitant look, something Yuri doesn’t often see on his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to- just because I want-”

“Since when have I ever done something just because someone else wanted me to?” Yuri asks flatly.

That brings the hint of a smile onto Otabek’s face. “Never.”

“Right. So don’t over analyse it, idiot.”

“Why do I even like you,” Otabek asks, shaking his head.

“You just have shitty taste in men, I guess.”

Otabek drops his hand, then slips both arms around his waist. “No,” he says, pulling Yuri closer, “I think I’m doing okay.”

They kiss in the hot, close darkness, the sounds of the sleeping city all around them, and Yuri thinks to himself - yeah. Maybe, just maybe, this will turn out okay.


End file.
